doctrine
by fallen-chan
Summary: the sun on their faces, the taste of dying dreams in the air. He echoes the doctrine embedded by the mold to deaf ears. •ℵ• implied Ita/Shi


**Disclaimer: **I own no one.

**A/N:** written for the minific fest at bitter_nakano on LJ

**Summary:** the sun on their faces, the taste of dying dreams in the air. He echoes the doctrine embedded by the mold to deaf ears. •ℵ• implied Ita/Shi

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

Lazy days like these - days where they dance over the surface of the water and splash until droplets fall from mussed hair and sparkle beneath the sun on pale skin, days where they collapse by the banks of the Nakano and share onigiri and talk of nothing, silent laughter in black eyes - are rare now; Itachi is a _chunin_ already, Shisui several years his elder. Today is one of those days.

Itachi rolls over and dips his fingers into cool water to wash the bits of rice clinging to his fingers off and the river winds past them lazily, shimmering as it disappears into bright blue sky. The Uchiha Military Police Force is particularly busy on days like these, when the children run wild through the village and petty criminals exploit the good weather; Itachi tells his father that he will be busy training all day, Shisui tells his friends that he will be training with someone in his clan and when they meet by the river and Shisui lifts a plastic box filled with onigiri, they know they have the day to themselves.

"Ne, you look like you're thinking too hard, Itachi-kun." Shisui reaches over lazily, slinging an arm over his chest casually. "Relax, enjoy the weather! you'll be doing mission after mission soon, everyone'll want to hire Konoha's new prodigy." The grin on his lips widens and he ruffles damp hair, fingers tugging loose strands from a formerly-neat ponytail. When Itachi makes a noise of protest, rolling onto his side, Shisui leans over to kiss the tip of his nose with laughing eyes.

"Have you ever thought about why?" Itachi's voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard over the river as it laps against the banks and tumbles over loose pebbles. "Why us" he clarifies - pointlessly, Shisui thinks, because his baby cousin possesses a mind that thinks in twists and turns, instead of a linear path as the norm dictates. "Everyone else chooses for themselves but our only choice was to become _shinobi_."

A bird chirps, digs tiny sharp claws into the branch of a tree. Tiny fragments of bark shower down onto his face and Shisui sees the glimmer of amusement in his cousin's eyes when he sits up, brushing them from his face with exaggerated movements. "We're Uchiha" he says simply, as though a clan name alone is explanation for everything. (In fact, the name "Uchiha" _is_ the only explanation Shisui needs for what he is, what he does.) The slow blink, followed by a tilting of his head, suggests that Itachi does not understand as clearly as he does. "What else would we be? Especially you, Itachi-kun, you're the oldest kid Fugaku-sama has. There's never been an Uchiha who wasn't a _shinobi_ at one point or another!"

Silence. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, scooting so that his back is to the tree trunk, legs stretched out and spread so that Itachi fits neatly between them when he reaches out and tugs on his cousin's wrist. "Look, everyone knew you'd make an awesome _shinobi_ when you were born, 'kay? You're an Uchiha, it's the only thing you could've been."

Itachi twists, frowns prettily at him while nimble fingers shred grass. "Is that why you became a _shinobi_? Because you were born into the clan?" There is an undercurrent of vague dissatisfaction, something Shisui can't place or trace to a specific cause.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I knew that's what I was going to be as soon as I was old enough to understand that stuff." The undercurrent becomes more prominent, rises to a sudden swell that disappears are quickly it appeared. Itachi's fingers are lightly stained green and he grabs a hand, brings it up to his mouth and curls his tongue around slender digits as Itachi opens his mouth to say something. Shisui tells himself he is removing evidence of their lazy summer day.

"... not for the village?" He blinks once, twice, before his brain catches up with her ears and the rest of the question registers. He lets go of his cousin's hand, leans his head against rough bark, and tactfully avoids looking at Itachi until the red flush staining pale cheeks is gone.

"That too" he agrees lightly, an easy grin on his lips. "That stuff came later though, you know? The clan always came first."

Another frown. He thinks vaguely, in some distant corner of his mind, that Itachi's dissatisfaction increases with each answer he gives. "... what if I don't want to do it?"

Shisui startles, bangs his head against wood and stifles a sudden litany of curses when he realises his clumsiness. "Do what?" he parrots in a poor imitation of the question.

His cousin turns away and stares at the river, fingers brushing over his leg. "You know I don't like to kill." Avoidance. A small rock splashes into the water, skips once before sinking into the current. Itachi turns back to him and leans close, eyes a washed-out black under the sun peering through the branches above them. "I want a choice, Shisui." Quietly. _'Don't tell me I don't have one_'is what he hears in the brush of lips on his cheek.

Uchiha Shisui wonders where his prodigal, logical cousin is in the dreamer sitting before him. He tips them both over onto the ground again and stares up at bright green leaves, lacing his fingers with Itachi's. His cousin fits neatly against him and he turns his head, presses a kiss to frowning lips until Itachi relaxes against him, hand curling around his shirt.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

The heat of the sun seeps into them, bringing suggestions of sleep with it. Shisui presses a kiss to the top of Itachi's head as his cousin doze against him and whispers the only lie he will ever tell his cousin - _"you have one_._"_


End file.
